“Let me go! My Papa will get really mad and kick your butt!” Bowser Jr. demanded. The Koopaling had been kidnapped by some deranged Hippo. She had him tied to a chair, pondering over something. Evidently, she didn’t care what he had to say. Margaret just stared at him. 
	“She can’t be right…” Margaret trailed. Bowser Jr. ceased his pointless ranting as he watched threads from her pantsuit slither out the room. She circled Bowser Jr., surveying him. Eventually, she stopped behind him and reached for his bandana.
	“Hey! What are you doing?!”
	“Oh hush, just trying to see if a former colleague was right.” Another set of threads from her pantsuit slither their way to Bowser Jr.’s face. Spoken in a monotone voice, Margaret chanted, “Divine Cloth Wigar, Weapon Eight: Powder. Subcategory: Sleep.” Strangely, blue powder is exerted over Bowser Jr.’s face.  
“What the heck is that supposed… to...do...zzzzzz,” the Prince of the Koopalings slowly trailed off. As expected of Wigar, he fell asleep farther quickly. Which was good for Margaret. She could work without interruption.
The thread, not rope, tied around Bowser Jr. shifts their focus. Instead, they held him up, his limbs stretched comfortably as far as possible. Out the corner of Margaret’s eye, one of her threads returned with a spray can.
Margaret quickly shook the spray can then aimed it at his shell. Careful to avoid his shell spikes, she sprayed his shell. Turning it from green to a familiar-looking bright pink. Margaret shakes her head, repeating to herself, “She can’t be right...”
A second and third thread had returned too. The second thread held a pink bow with white polka dots. Meanwhile, the third thread held a razor. His hairband is removed, his shockingly gorgeous orange covering his scalp. So gorgeous that as the razor buzzed closer to his scalp, she shed a tear.
One of Margaret's threads held his hair up. The razor goes to work, shaving his head. Some hair stumbles remained, though it wasn't too noticeable to an untrained eye. After the bow is settled nicely on his head, no stumble remained visible. Margaret shakes her head once more. She felt her convictions weaken a bit.
She can't be right. Can she? Margaret mused. The fourth and fifth thread returned. Her fourth thread carried a tub of lipstick. While her fifth brought a red pearled necklace. 
Where his bandana was the necklace immediately replaced. A set of threads force his lips to pucker. Lipstick is quite liberally applied to his lips until they are cartoonishly pink. Once finished, her threads relinquished his lips. Looking him over once more, her eyes bulged.
Fuck she might be right! Margaret worried. The last of her two threads returned. Her sixth thread brought two golden bracelets. The final thread brought a pair of pink heels. 
The threads holding Bowser Jr. gently lowered him into his bed. A bracelet slid onto each of his wrists. Finally, his feet comfortably slid into each heel. At this point, all threads returned to her pantsuit.
Looking over his completed makeover left Margaret horrified. Bowser Jr. was near the spitting image of his sister, Wendy! Of course, there were some imperfects. Mostly the eyes and coloring of their heads. Other than that… there was a striking resemblance. Those words a former colleague once said rang in her head.
"Wendy is just Bowser Jr. in drag."
The hippo sighed. As she departed from Koopa Castle, she grumbled, "She's right…"